Daddy’s Terrified Little Girl by Scott Wylder

CHAPTER FIVE

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cora

 

Garrett doesn’t hesitate and steps forward. When he kisses me, the kiss is unlike any I have ever experienced. This is not a sexy kiss. The word sexy doesn’t do it justice at all. This is the kind of a kiss that communicates far more than arousal. This kiss claims me. With one hand on the small of my back, pulling me against him and the other on the back of my head, holding me firmly as his tongue explores my mouth, Garrett claims me.

No. Daddy claims me.

I become acutely aware of the fact that he is fully dressed while I am naked. I don’t know why that is such a significant thing for me but there is no question at all that it impacts me. I can feel his clothes against my bare skin and the effect is somehow both erotic and… Is the word frightening?

No. I am not frightened. I am simply aware of the difference between the two of us. Garrett—no, Daddy—is strong, powerful and in control. I am exposed to the world, naked and often ashamed. I am not ashamed right now though. On the contrary, I am eager and excited. I slide my hands down to his belt but he immediately takes my wrists and pulls them away.

“Patience, princess,” he says.

Dear God!

I don’t know why him refusing to let me undress him turns me on so much but it does. I think perhaps some of the impact has to do with the knowledge that he is in control and some of it has to do with the razor-edge I’m walking between terror and joy at being naked in front of him while he is still covered up.

I let out a little moan and then suddenly I am up in the air. I throw my arms around his neck as he cradles me in his arms and takes me to the bed. He sets me down so my ass is right at the edge of the mattress. I lift myself up to move more to the center and he takes my ankle and pulls me back. “Be still,” he commands and I let out a little moan.

I stared up at him, my legs hanging down from the foot of the bed and the rest of me on the mattress. I suppose I have a good body. No, I don’t suppose it. I know I’m attractive. If a guy can get past my aimlessness and general stupidity, he’ll want me. Still, when he looks at me, I feel like he sees well beyond the surface.

It feels like he stares at me for a year!

Abruptly, he falls to his knees in front of the bed and his mouth descends on my pussy. I cry out immediately, “Oh God, Garrett!” The sensations are so damned profound! Nobody has ever gone down on me before and I cry out again, “Daddy! God!”

His strong hands grip my knees, spreading my legs widely as his tongue delves into me. The sensations are unlike any I’ve ever felt, and they are beyond anything I could have imagined. Of course, I have fantasized about oral sex before but now I actually have something to fantasize about. It’s beyond profound and it is made more profound because without ever taking his mouth from me, he removes his clothing.

As his clothes come off, it still feels like he’s holding me in place like before. I don’t get it at all but I have no complaints. His mouth feels magical. It’s otherworldly and perfect, and I am held in place by sensations running through me that make all other pleasure I’ve experienced seem mild by comparison. I felt my body responding with a great deal of urgency and…

I can’t understand why but it already feels like I am cumming though the orgasm has not hit. I feel the same kind of gripping paralysis, the same sort of inability to function or think. I whisper, “Oh, Daddy,” softly and the scream the words again as he moves his mouth up and focuses on my clit. My body comes up off the bed but he holds tightly to my knees so I end up with my shoulders against the bed and my body arced with my feet flat on the floor and his mouth right in place.

The orgasm hits while I am like that and I cry out as everything tenses up impossibly and then releases in an impossible flood of pleasure I can’t even comprehend. I gasp and then moan and again scream. “Garrett! Oh, Daddy! Oh, God! God! Daddy! Garrett!”

He holds me firmly as the orgasm claims me and pleasure shoots over me. The pleasure is far more powerful than the pleasure I experience masturbating, far sharper and almost debilitating in its power. I can’t breathe for a moment, just completely seized up inside. Then, the contraction releasing in an overpowering flood of bliss, and when the tenseness disappears, he is suddenly up, never letting go of my knees but pulling my legs back as he thrusts into me.

Before, the position made me helpless. Now, I am unable to move because the orgasm seems to ratchet up into something even more powerful. I’m completely overcome, and lost for a while. I come to five or ten minutes later when he cries out and finishes. I lay there on the bed, almost unable to think and when he finally withdraws, I need years to recover.

He gives me a shower before we return to the couch, now wearing only towels, and he says, “Little girl, we’re going to talk about you now and you’re not going to change the subject.” His tone leaves no room for disagreement.

“Yes, Daddy,” I say nervously.

“Why didn’t you want to talk about yourself yesterday?”

I swallow hard. “I… I just don’t…”

“Now, little girl.” God, even after an orgasm that ought to last me a decade, his tone instantly fills me with need.

“I… I have three associates degrees because I never finish my bachelor’s degrees. I just give up.”

He looks at me and asks, “So you’ve never done what you want to do because you never finished the degrees you wanted?”

I look at the carpet and shake my head. “I never actually tried with what I want to do.”

“Why?”

I bite my lip and remain silent as I feel tears threaten to fall.